Tea and Savages
by Lohce Azcry
Summary: One minute he's with a little girl huddled in a backyard. Next, he's years back, standing over a bleeding bird whispering French. Finally, he dies and remember brown eyes.
1. Tea

"Annie! Your tea is ready!"

A gasp, and small hands put down the doll they had momentarily been dressing. "You hear that, Mr. Rabbit?" the little girl with golden curls squealed to a velvet rabbit propped against a wall. "The tea's ready!"

She ran to the door and shouted down the stairs, _"I'll be right there mommy! And my name is Anne!"_

Back to Mr. Rabbit. She adjusted the tiny blue vest and tilted the flower in the pocket, rubbing a worn button eye. Then to the doll on the floor: a beautiful porcelain girl with shiny brown tresses, clear blue eyes the color of a sunny sky, flawless skin, pouted red lips and a purple frock with a white bow tied in the back.

Elizabeth.

A Christmas gift given by two loving and guilty parents who watched their daughter play Tea Party alone in the backyard. Of all the dolls she owned, Elizabeth was the crown jewel. Every day Anne tenderly combed her hair until it was smooth as silk, took a wet cloth and cleaned her skin, her eyes. Puffed her dress. Conversed about the recent gossip of Anne's room, like how yesterday Mr. Buttonfop had gotten lost under the bed all day and Diamond the cat had knocked Charlie down. Anne loved Elizabeth, and she never doubted that if Elizabeth could talk, the doll would say she loved Anne too.

Anne picked Elizabeth up and put her on the bed before scurrying around the room and collecting the rest of her guests: Mr. Rabbit, a bluebird called Birdy, Mr. Buttonfop the orange cat, and Mr. Buttonfop's brother Carlos. Six guests out of the seven (Ruby the toad was cut in her side and mommy hadn't pulled her thread out yet) that partook in Anne's Tea Party every time the little girl decided it was time for one. None held the common marks of child play, for Anne cared for her toys like they were her siblings.

After tidying up all their clothes and fussing them under the crook of her arm, Anne raced to the mirror. She checked her own Tea Party garb: the hat tied to her head, the curls in her hair, the fancy green dress with the frills. She smoothed the wrinkles, ran a hand in her hair. When she was satisfied she scooped up the tea basket and raced down the stairs, keeping sure that the toys stayed under her arm.

"I'm ready mommy." she chirped as she entered the kitchen. Her mother stood at the stove, stirring the spoon in a steaming pot. A woman reaching her aging years with the trademark gray laced into brown hair tied in a tight bun, aged hands and a simple dress with an apron, Anne's mother was a simple type who didn't gossip but did not neglect her duties as the woman of the house.

Her mother picked up the handle of a china teapot and handed it to Anne, then stopped midway. "How do you expect to carry your tea with all that in your hands?"

Anne blushed, and looked down at her black shoes. "Oh, um..."

A smirk. "Don"t be so reckless next time, Annie," her mother chided, setting the spoon down and lifting the teapot. "I'll take the tea."

"Thank you mommy." Anne grinned, following her mother to the backyard. "And my name is_ Anne!_"

"When your father comes home. But _I_ wanted an Annie, and since I'm the one who's stuck by you more than him I get to call you whatever I please, when I am the _woman_ of the house."

They entered the backyard. A small square of neatly-cut grass and fences with clean paint, the backyard was, simply, the backyard. They never used it for gatherings or family time, never planted flowers or let the dog run around. Partly because it was too small for events as big as that, there were no nearby tree to provide comfortable shade and her father loathed dogs. But Anne loved Tea Parties outside in the sun, so one birthday her parents bought a set of child-sized oak chairs and an oak table and set it out in the corner of the fence-line.

Her mother waited while Anne placed her dolls on the grass and pulled the white tablecloth from her basket. Once it was settled, china teacups and plates were set, followed by sugar, spoons, and...

"Forget something?" her mother teased, using her free hand to grasp something in her apron's pocket. Two tiny china jars of cream and milk.

Anne's cheeks blushed red. It was never fun to be outsmarted by mommy.

"Went to bed late, Annie?" A smile. Her mother set the teapot in the middle of the table, rifled her daughter's hat, and walked to the backdoor. "Be done in an hour," she called behind her as the door shut.

Silence.

Then, "Tea time!"

* * *

There wasn't a single cloud in the sky. The sun was bright and warm against Anne's back, but it didn't feel uncomfortable. To her side her two-story house loomed along with the other identical tightly-packed houses with white walls, square windows and black shingles. Her neighborhood was small, and comfortable. All the houses shared a space behind their fences as a sort of common-ground where the clothes were hung and the washing was shared by the local well, so if Anne jumped up to the fence line she could see all the other houses blotting out the horizon. Of course, she was too small, and mother had said some of the woman who gossiped there were "unpleasant toads", so she couldn't ask her to take her over. But it wasn't that she didn't leave the house. She went on walks to the market and would sometimes go to the sweet shop. But Anne did not have friends. There were simply no children in her area. And therefore playing outside consisted of her backyard, because she could not go to a friends and the front of the house was too loud and busy for Tea Parties.

But sometimes she wondered what other backyards looked like. Ones with trees.

"Would you like some more tea, Carlos?" she asked the black cat propped against the chair.

_No thanks, Anne._

"Okay," she said. The tea had been, overall, untouched by most of her guests, and declined when offered._ Nobody's thirsty today, huh?  
_

"Well, Elizabeth, what about you?"

_No, thank you Anne. I'm full, _the doll murmured, bow slightly shifting in the breeze.

"Oh, okay." She set the teapot down and looked hopefully at the other guests, all waiting for something to say. "So what's new?"

_Oh boy, I was under the bed the other day-_

_Sleeping._

_No, no, no, I was exploring and found all sorts of interesting things under there._

_Dust bunnies?_

_Yes! Well, and more, but they were the most interesting people to talk to. Poor bunnies, though, they're stuck under the bed all day and never get to see sunlight. We should make a rescue-_

_I thought this was a Tea Party, not a rescue-plan.._

_Aw come on, you're always so mean-_

_Wait!_

"What?"

_Do you hear that?_

They were silent. The birds were gone, their song vanished like a blown candle. Her ears strained in the silence, and Elizabeth inclined her head.

Finally, she heard it: faint...shouting, the thudding of many feet.

"What's that?" she asked her party guests, voice hushed to a whisper.

_A fight!_

_No, no, there'd be more noise if that was it. A party?_

_People don't shout in a party. And not like that._

Indeed, the commotion was nearing, the shouting sounding more angry, with words like "Hault!" and "Grab them!" mixed with the grunts of men and the clatter of metal.

"They sound really close." she whispered, fear hinting in her tone. Guards didn't cross people's gates, yes, and she was sure she hadn't done anything wrong, but still. They were angry and she didn't know who was the target. But what worried her most was it sounded like they were chasing someone, and if they were chasing someone that meant that someone had done something bad. And that someone was close.

The though of a bad guy in her backyard sent shivers up her spine. "Okay, I'm a little scared."

_Be real quiet._

_Run away!_

_Wait! The bad guy won't enter your fence. Just don't make so much noise that he knows you're here._

"Okay."

A breathe. She glanced to the door. Could her mother hear her if she screamed? Maybe. But what if the bad guy had a weapon? Would he hurt her? How long would it take for daddy to come home and save them? What if...what if he kidnapped her and her mother? If just Anne was taken, her mommy and daddy could look for her.

_So don't call for her._

Yeah. Just...just pretend it wasn't there. She shakily lifted her cup and sipped her tea-

when two men jumped into her backyard.

She froze.

They'd landed right in front of her table. Behind the fence the guards roared in their clatter of boots and steel, calling out orders and commands. Time was still. Her guests were silent. The tea sloshed against her mouth, but she didn't let it pass. Everything inside her was paralyzed, and her guests were silent and still.

The first one wore a blue funny-looking hat, with black hair tied into a ponytail, and he had lots of blue-colored layers with gold borders. Anne had never seen a person wear so much blue. His brown eyes flitted around the backyard, before they finally found hers, widening as he glanced at her Tea Party.

"Connor," the man said, and she heard a...a...what was it?

_English accent, _Elizabeth answered.

"Connor" must have been the second man, because he turned from the fence to look at the first, then to her. He wore a hood, so she couldn't see his face, but he wore lots of white: white robes, white hood. _Like a ghost._ He was holding something in his hand, a metal-thing that had a curved edge, and on his back were other odd things strapped, like...

_I believe that is a bow, _Mr. Buttonfop whispered.

_What's he doing with a bow?_

Both men were out of breathe, panting hard but hushed as they glanced at her party. The dolls. The tea. The guards raged behind the fence, now calling out orders for searching.

For a few seconds they were all still. Anne felt a scream begin to bubble in her throat _because they have to be the bad guys why else would he be holding such a sharp thing _and she looked to the backdoor and contemplated crying out for her mommy again. Then she looked to the fence and wondered how long it would take the guards to climb it before the two men would hurt her.

The first saw her look back at the thing in the Connor's hand. "Connor," he hissed, "put that away."

_English, _Elizabeth muttered,

Connor hesitated, then put the metal thing away where she couldn't see it.

The first looked back to her, and his eyes were sharp and serious. "You must not scream." he ordered, and his voice was deadly even when he hushed it.

The scream in Anne's throat simmered at the command.

She nodded slowly.

"You are scared, no?"

She nodded again.

"You have nothing to fear, so long as you are silent."

She nodded once more, and looked back at the second man and the black spot where his face should be.

The man must've seen her do that, because he turned to the Connor. "Connor, put your hood down before you scare her to death." he snapped, his voice hushed the whole time.

Connor, startled, grasped the edge of his hood and pulled it back.

He was...he was...

_Oh my, _Elizabeth breathed.

His skin was much darker than the first man's, one shade away from rich chocolate. His eyes were soft and brown, and his jaw was set and firm. His black hair was tied back and a few loose braids hung around his face, and Anne, even through her fear, thought he was the most-

_Handsome._

-handsome man she had ever seen.

_Even more handsome than daddy._

Anne could not take her eyes off him, and he, uncomfortable, broke eye contact and looked at his feet.

"Where is your mother?" the first man asked.

She pointed to the door.

"Ah..." he breathed.

A guard shouted. He gestured to the Tea Party. "Are you having a tea party?"

She nodded.

He smiled. "Would you mind if I had a sip? I am quite parched."

The skin on her neck prickled, and she glanced at Carlos. _Can I...?_

_Yes._

With numb movement, she took Carlos's empty cup and plate and cleared the section of the table for the man, who scooted over, crouched, and gazed at the tableware. "Is this china?"

She nodded.

Behind him, the Connor shifted uneasily, ear poised to the noise of the guards. She looked at him, and back to the first man.

"Ah," he said, smiling reassuringly. "Connor, come participate." he snapped.

_You can use mine, _Mr. Rabbit said.

So she reached over with a thudding heart and grabbed Mr. Rabbit's plate and cup and dumped the little tea that remained in it out onto the grass and moved the plates to make room for the man, who warily looked around the limp stuffed animals propped on chairs. Anne's heart fluttered.

"I have yet to introduce myself." the first man said as he took the sugar and a spoon. "I am Haytham." He gestured to the second, "And this is Connor."

Behind the fence one of the guards shouted suddenly, and they heard the sound of falling metal. She flinched.

Silence, then, "What is your name?"

Silence.

"Anne." she muttered.

"Pardon?"

"Anne." she said a little louder.

"Anne." Haytham repeated, letting the name roll on his tongue.

"It's a..." Connor said, pouring a handful of tea into his cup (a result of the glares Haytham stealthily dished), and she found his voice to be the loveliest thing she had ever heard, "...nice name."

"It's lovely." Haytham cut in, finishing his tea and reaching for the pot. "And this tea very good. Did your mother make this?"

She nodded. Her cheeks bloomed bright red. She smiled, looked down, put sugar in her tea.

_They're strangers Anne, _Carlos warned.

_But they're nice strangers._

_But they're nice strangers who are also the bad guys._

_...Oh._

_(but are they really bad guys)_

"Were..." she said, sipping her tea and looking at Connor. "...are they chasing you?"

He nodded. Haytham watched her with steady eyes.

Her heart sunk. "So...you're the bad guys."

They both stopped, looked at eachother. Connor set his cup down and looked at her with his brown eyes which reminded her of warm fur and daddy's coat and she decided there was no way he could be a bad guy. Bad guys don't have eyes like that.

_Maybe Haytham could be the bad guy and Connor's trying to stop him, _Birdy piped in.

_But Haytham's been nice, _Carlos argued.

_Or maybe they really aren't bad guys, _Mr. Rabbit mused.

"No." Connor said steadily, "We are not the bad guys."

Haytham watched them both with steely eyes behind a china cup.

She looked at them, puzzled. "Then why are they chasing you?"

"Silly reasons." Haytham answered.

Connor nodded.

Silence.

But she had to know. "And...were these silly things bad?"

Haytham smiled, set his cup down, and leaned forward. "Did you ever break your mother's rules because you need to do something very badly, but she tells you not do, and you do so regardless?"

She nodded. _Like right now,_ Carlos said.

"Well, Connor and I needed to do something, something small and harmless, and the guards didn't want us to. But we had to do it. Do you understand?"

"Like...going out in the front of the house to get your ball that rolled out, even though mother says not to?"

"Yes. Like that."

_Oh._

Relief exhaled through her. They weren't the bad guys. Connor wasn't a bad guy. They were good, and she wasn't really doing anything bad by letting them stay.

_The guards are the bad guys, then, _Elizabeth mused.

Another moment of silence. Connor had long stopped drinking his tea, and Haytham was stalling with his. And she realize it. It was silent, as in,_ silent_. The guards were long gone. A bird flitted to her roof.

"Well, Anne, we must be off." Haytham said.

She frowned.

_If your mother comes out and sees them you'll never have Tea Party again._

_Yeah, I don't think she'll like strangers in her backyard._

_And you don't have enough tea anyway._

"Okay," she said, dejected, as Haytham stood with Connor. She noticed that Haytham also had a dark-blue cape with a funny yellow symbol ontop of all the blue he wore.

"You wear a lot of blue," she said.

Haytham turned, and smiled at her. Anne thought she heard an amused sound from Connor behind him. "Indeed I do."

"Do you even_ like_ the color blue?"

"Of course." He winked. "Now we really must be off, Anne." He and Connor walked over to the wall of her house. "Farewell."

"Goodbye." Connor said.

She watched them with shock as they_ climbed her house_. Their feet easily found all the right nooks to cram in, all the right spots to pull up. In a matter of seconds Connor was on the roof and Haytham was soon to follow.

_"Did you have to do that?_" Anne wanted to call up to them.

But too late: they were gone.

Silence replaced them. Silence, and the memories of Connor's soft brown eyes. And Anne found herself looking to her guests, and they looked back at her. Nothing like that had ever happened to Anne in her life (she doubted it would ever happen again) and she was speechless now that it was gone.

_Connor's very handsome,_ Elizabeth said.

"Yeah." she said distantly.

_You should maaaarrrryyyyy him,_ Birdy sang.

"What? No, no-"

"Annie!" her mother called from inside the house and Anne almost fell out of her chair.

"I'm coming mom!" Anne called back after she had collected herself, looking one more time at the tip of her roof. "And my name is _Anne_!"


	2. Savages

"So...you found...me." she rasped, and a trickle of blood slipped from the corner of her mouth. "Bastard."

"You gave us a hard chase, I'll admit." Haytham replied, standing over her slumped body against the risen ground. He was out of breath. Slightly. Behind him Charles leaned against a tree, head inclined to the sky, breath sucking in and out. His mark had been true and sure, but it had taken everything to aim that far away. Their footprint still dotted the landscape behind.

The air was cold, and their breaths came out in puffs of white. Frost had already gathered on the frozen grass and bare trees. The sky was a morbid, gloomy grey. Haytham shifted on his feet. "But the babe gave you away."

"The babe..." A racked cough, and the red flower of crimson bloomed from the knife stuck in the center of her white-robed chest. She looked like a shot bird with the white coattails trailing past her bent legs. He found they all looked like that, when you saw them die so many times. "...yes...I had a feeling he'd lead to a-" more coughing "-slip." She looked up at him, a bloody grin on her face, and Haytham noted her beauty was still there. Dying. But there. And all she had done to evade them came back to him. The running. The hiding. The dead ends and frustrating sightings, all for the last known Assassin in the Colonies. Another shame to tally with the list of unnecessary deaths. His Order could have used someone like her.

"Then why did you agree to take him? Why not someone else?"

She laughed, but it was more blood than humor. Thick red bled between her fingers, and a thumb stroked the blade of the knife. "There was no one else...you damned Templar bastard. No one...we could trust. You burned us and drowned us and shot us and hung us and locked us up."

She looked away, to Charles, and frowned. "And now...now we're..." her sentence was ended with another bloody cough.

"A necessary act. Had you been where I am, you would have done the same."

Her final breaths were stuttered, rattling. "May...be true. But...I know...that babe..."

Lips moved, voice barley audible. Haytham bent down to hear, his ear a few inches from her lips.

"..._Vous lui aviez dans vos bras_." she whispered, the final few words interrupted by the blood dribbling from her lips, and Haytham felt her death rattle sigh past his cheek. Her body went limp, her fingers fell away. Haytham felt a great sigh leave him, both internal and external. He raised his fingers and slid her glassy eyes shut.

* * *

"So that's the last of them, sir?" Charles asked as they trudged their way back to shelter. Their breaths puffed in the light snow.

"I'd assume, Charles. She said as much."

He stopped. "Sir?"

Haytham paused, turned to him. His cape was heavy on his shoulders, his tricorn a weight on his head. He could feel gravity wear on his face and the scar on his side flared. The silence stood between them, and Haytham saw no weariness in Charles. No. There was something else, and the only thing he could pinpoint as a proper example was that of a child scolding a slow dog.

"I simply feel the weight, Charles. This entire ordeal has tired me."

A smile. A hand on his shoulder. "Ah, sir. I understand. So much has happened in such little time. It can weight any man down." He led his Grandmaster away, towards the black smoke of the city. "But it is done! The Assassins are dead, and our Order prospers. We have succeeded. Let us celebrate! Our brothers will be overjoyed at this news."

And Haytham grinned, slightly. For who could hold sorrow with such a glad friend at their side?

So he walked with Charles, to the city, and he looked to the future. A future without Assassins. A future without any obstacles. And as these ideas and grand plans filled his head, the whisper of French faded away, and eventually, so did the babe.


	3. Orbs

_But he never did forget, did he? No. There was too much thought about. Too much emotion associated. The blood seeped through his hand and his grown son stood silent above him, and when Haytham looked in his eyes he saw small orbs of brown in his hands and he remembered a feeling of fatherhood and he remembered a dead woman whispering French in his ear and then his eyes slid shut. _


End file.
